My Genius Sister is Only Seven!? - Chapter 130 - I Disagree

Reincarnated into the Douluo Continent, inheriting the Emerald Scorpion Martial Soul, with no other options—what should you do if you’re forced to play with poison? Chen Ming declares: “If I’m going to play with poison, I’ll make sure to excel at it. As a transmigrator, even playing with poison, I’ll set an example worth following.”(Anti-Tang San, multiple female leads, no affiliation with the Spirit Hall, self-created divine position.)Raw Title: 斗罗：翡翠毒皇

A young boy named Tang Jie was searching for a path into immortalhood when he happened to save an immortal in need, resulting in the latter owing him a karmic debt.

What? You want to repay me with mere Spiritual Enhancement Pills? Is that how cheap you view your life to be?

As a result, Xu Muyang ended up having to drag the brat with him.

You’ll never shake me off now, thought Tang Jie.

It was an enormous tsunami that completely covered the sky, and due to its dark water, the sun had been blocked out. A sense of despair ran through everybody as they looked towards the peaked wave quickly crashing down. But was I the only one who noticed the massive sea monster lurking towards the front of the wave? CRASH [Requirments Met] [System has been chosen] [Your god has been selected] [System Granted] [Poseidon System is being installed]

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.